Those who have studied the history of ancient Tamil Nadu know well that, in those days, many women stood at the forefront of social life. Queens born into royal families were held in the highest esteem. Women born into the Chola dynasty, as well as those who had married into it, possessed property rights of their own. Each of them owned, in her own name, villages, fertile and dry lands, and herds of cattle. It is important to note how these women made use of their possessions. Many used their wealth to sponsor various religious services in temples under their own names. Lighting sacred lamps, weaving garlands for the deity, providing food for wandering ascetics and devotees of Shiva—numerous royal women endowed such charitable acts, ensuring they were inscribed in stone or copperplate grants.

While it was common practice in those days for palace women to undertake temple services, Princess Kundavai, the beloved daughter of Sundara Chola, chose to use her wealth for a different kind of charity. Perhaps it was out of compassion for her ailing father, or for some other reason, but a fervent desire arose in her heart to establish charitable hospitals throughout the land. We have already seen that an infirmary had been founded at Pazhaiyarai in the name of Emperor Parantaka. In the same manner, Kundavai Devi had made arrangements to establish a hospital in Thanjavur, bearing her father's name. On this Vijayadasami day, preparations had been made to inaugurate the hospital and to issue the necessary grants and charters.

In Purampadi, outside the Thanjavur fort, in the Garuda Mandapam opposite the Perumal temple, the inaugural ceremony of the Sundara Chola Hospital took place. Since Lord Vishnu is the presiding deity, and Garuda is the one who brought the nectar of immortality, Kundavai chose the Garuda Mandapam adjacent to the Vishnu temple as the site for the hospital’s founding. For this grand occasion, the people of Thanjavur city and the surrounding villages had gathered in countless numbers. Men, women, and children, adorned in festive garments and ornaments, thronged the place in joyous celebration. The ministers of the Chola emperor’s council, high and low officials, sculptors who inscribed the stone edicts, Viswakarma artisans who wrote the copperplate grants, and numerous palace attendants had all assembled in great numbers. The air resounded with the beating of drums and the music of... The Velakkara soldiers advanced, their drums resounding so thunderously that all eight directions seemed to tremble. The guards of the Thanjai fort came, spinning their swords and spears, making a clamor of “tanar, tanar” as they marched. The two Pazhuvettarayar brothers arrived in majestic splendor, mounted atop their elephants. Prince Madurantaka Devar, astride a white horse, struggled awkwardly, unable to sit properly, and joined the procession in discomfort. Princess Kundavai, her companions, and several elderly women of the palace came in procession, seated in their palanquins. From another direction, the ivory palanquin bearing the palm insignia of the young queen of Pazhuvoor, Nandini, arrived.

In the area adorned with a blue silk canopy, arranged especially for the palace women, Kundavai Devi, the Queen of Pazhuvoor, and the other ladies took their seats. Then, at a signal from the elder Pazhuvettarayar, the festivities commenced. First, two Oduvamoorthis sang the Thevaram hymn, “Mandiramaavadhu Neeru.” Accompanied by the harmonious strains of the yāzh and the maddalam, their voices blended so sweetly that the people were utterly enraptured. A profound silence prevailed over the vast gathering.

But in the section where the palace women were seated, a soft conversation arose between two voices. The young queen of Pazhuvoor, Nandini, drew close to Kundavai and asked, “Devi! Once, did not Sambandar Peruman sing this very hymn, apply the sacred ash, and cure the Pandya king’s illness? Why does this song lack such power now? Not only has the hymn lost its power, but even the sacred ash seems to have lost its potency. In these times, nothing can be accomplished without medicine, herbs, physicians, and hospitals—why is that so?”

“Yes, Rani! In those days, dharma reigned supreme in the world. That is why the sacred ash, empowered by mantra, possessed such strength. Now, sin has overrun the world. Traitors who plot against the king have arisen in the land. Have we ever heard of such things before? That is why the power of mantra has waned, and medicine has become necessary!” replied the young princess, gazing intently at the face of the young queen of Pazhuvoor.

Nandini’s expression betrayed no change. “Is that so? Are there truly traitors plotting against the king in these times? Who are they?” she asked, her tone carefully measured.

“That, I do not know either. Some name one person; others, someone else. I think I shall remain here a few more days to discover the truth. How can one know the ways of the world while staying in Pazhaiyarai?” said Kundavai.

“You have made a wise decision. If you ask me, it would be best for you to stay here. Otherwise, the kingdom will be reduced to rubble. I too will help you as much as I can. There is a guest in our house. He might also be able to assist you!” she said.

“Who is this guest?” asked Kundavai.

“Kandanmaran, the son of Sambuvaraiyar of Kadambur. Have you seen him? He is tall as a coconut tree and always restless. He keeps rambling on, calling someone a ‘spy’ and a ‘traitor’ without end. Just now you spoke of treason against the throne, didn’t you? Can you tell me if there is a treachery greater than treason against the crown?”

“I can tell you very well. If a woman betrays the man whose hand she has taken in marriage, that is a treachery far worse than treason against the throne!”

Having said this, Kundavai Devi looked intently at Nandini’s face. But the change she expected did not occur. The same enchanting smile lingered on Nandini’s lips as before.

“What you say is quite true; but